


I hear the secrets that you keep (when you're talking in your sleep)

by fancyfanstuff



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Nightmares, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyfanstuff/pseuds/fancyfanstuff
Summary: It's always the same routine, and it's always the same couple of sentences: "No! There has to be another way." Sobs. And then "I love you."Regina has the same nightmares every night. Robin wants to stop them at all costs.Or, the story from Robin's POV that literally nobody asked for.It's SwanQueen, I swear.





	I hear the secrets that you keep (when you're talking in your sleep)

**Author's Note:**

> So...  
> Yeah, I don't know what happened. This popped into my head and wouldn't leave me be until I finally wrote it.  
> See, I hate this whole soulmate situation and the only way I'm able to cope with it is by telling myself over and over again that it is possible to have platonic soulmates. Also, I don't want to hate Robin.  
> So that's what I wrote about. I hope I can help others find peace despite the stupid canon plot.  
> Title and inspiration taken from Bucks Fizz's "Talking in your sleep".
> 
> PS: Robin wasn't killed by Hades in this story because I didn't like that storyline either.

The sheets are impossibly soft as I shuffle against them, soft and silky and way too comfortable for me to find sleep in. Years of making camp on mossy patches in the forest, never completely bare of sticks that press against the back at night, have accustomed my body to rough, imperfect underground and even the few nights I've actually spent in taverns or inns couldn't have prepared me for the luxury of this world. Thick bouncy mattresses and materials called polyester or elastane are as foreign to me as the twangy accent the people from the first curse have. Even Regina has picked it up, the tendency to pronounce the Rs like nobody did back in the Enchanted Forest, sharp and rolling, like stones scraping.

I groan as I turn to my side, a sudden pain shooting through my spine. The caving bed is poison for my back, but Regina loves it like that, enormous and fluffy for her to sink in. Her body is but a silhouette in the dark, the moon shining just bright enough through the shades for my eyes to make out the curve of her hip, pronounced even through the thick blanket. Regina is facing away from me, curled into herself like usual, breathing heavily and unevenly. Her hair is splayed over her pillow, gleaming black against the white and if I leaned over I would see her eyelashes painting a similar shadow against her cheek. She really is magnificent, even in her brokenness, and I have to remind myself again that she's not mine to fix. 

As if she heard my thoughts, Regina starts murmuring. She's doing that a lot these days, almost every night, at first quietly, making it impossible to understand her words, than growing louder and louder still until she's screaming. It's always the same routine, and it's always the same couple of sentences: "No! There has to be another way." Sobs. And then "I love you."

It has taken me a while to figure out the meaning of it all. At first I was flattered, thought she meant me, thought this was her way of telling me what she couldn't say at day. At first I thought the eerie déjà vu I got from the phrasing, the feeling to have heard Regina say those exact words before, came from unconsciously listening to her while sleeping myself. Until Emma crossed my way through town, smiling wearily in the arms of her boyfriend, a faint shadow of the vibrant person I had met when I first came here. Now rings have formed under her eyes, almost identical to those Regina has after a particularly hag-ridden night.

Almost a year has passed since the blonde became the Dark One, since she more or less jumped into the black vortex that enclosed Regina and thrust the dagger forward, tethering her soul to it forever. Except forever apparently doesn't apply to saviours because barely two months later Emma got rid of the darkness already and, except for the incident in the realm we call Underbrooke, has lived fairly normally since. Most people have already forgotten about the time of Dark Swan, even I find it hard to remember that particular period sometimes. Hell, even Emma has seemingly forgotten most of it, though Regina claims she's still dealing with the aftereffects of wielding that huge amount of power and fighting not to succumb to it. 

And therein lies the problem really. Regina is the one still thinking, still worrying about the darkness affecting Emma. Regina is the one still dreaming of the night Emma sacrificed herself and Regina is the one still regretting not to have acted, not to have told Emma what she now cries out almost every night. 

"I love you," Regina sobs next to me and some weeks ago my heart would have clenched. I was furious, sad, confused, most of all shocked. Soulmates are said to be an insurance of kinds, your true love, presented to you in a flourish, nicely wrapped in tattoos and pixie dust. They're not supposed to be in love with someone else, they're supposed to be your perfect match.

One week and four nightmares after my realisation, I had enough. When she started murmuring again, I seized her shoulders, shook her awake in tears, demanding answers. 

"What are you even talking about," she mumbled, still half-asleep, and she was confused herself about the wetness on her cheeks and pillow. I stopped asking her after that, it was clear she knew less about what was going on than me.

And still the dreams continued, startling me awake when I managed to find sleep for once, until my body learned to stay awake during the hours when they usually occur. I tried to comfort Regina, but she slapped my arm away, thrashing around until I retreated into my half of the bed, at which point she curled back into herself and returned to sobbing. I tried to talk to her about what she saw at night in the mornings, only to find that though she awakes grouchy and tired she's entirely oblivious to the reason for it. There was nothing I could do for her, except hoping she would get better soon.

She didn't and so, for her own good, I have to let her go.

Everything is planned. I met Emma the other day, asked her in Regina's name to stay over at the mansion, told Regina that Emma asked for a sleepover. Only by making each believe it was the other's wish, I could convince them both to agree, and now Emma is sleeping in the guest's room across the corridor. 

I fold back the heavy covers and tiptoe to the door. Regina's still crying behind me and for a moment I feel a pang of guilt for leaving her like this. But then the "I love you"s begin again and I know that for her and also my own sanity I have to go.

So I slip out of the door, leaving it slightly ajar, and make my way to Emma's door. I've already lifted my hand to knock, when it swings open and there's Emma, hair tangled and clearly just awoken, nonetheless staring at me with the urgent look she only gets when either Henry or Regina are in danger. Henry _or Regina_ and oh, I should have understood it way earlier, but I've been blinded by pixie dust and a fairy's promise.

"Is that Regina crying? What are you doing here? Does she need help?" 

For someone who threatened to hurt anyone who dared to wake her up before nine in the morning, Emma seems very harmless in her spate of questions. However, the force with which she pushes me away is to be reckoned with and it confirms me in my belief that I'm doing the right thing by stepping aside and playing the helpless boyfriend.

"I don't know what's happening. She started crying and screaming, but she won't wake up, do you know what to do?"

Just as I anticipated, Emma all but runs through the door, not even hesitating at the threshold as she would normally, wary to set foot in private chambers. But not now, not when Regina needs her help, and she kneels beside the bed and takes Regina's trembling hand, whispering soothing words I can't make out. Miraculously, Regina calms, sobbing quieter until finally, she stills.

"Emma?" She suddenly murmurs, half-asleep yet but quickly coming to. I didn't expect this but it fits quite well with my plans, exceeds my hopes to play at least stooge for my soulmate's happy ending.

"I'm here, Regina," Emma whispers back, softer than I've ever heard her talk, and she strokes Regina's sweaty brow and caresses her cheeks. I can only see her profile but the devotion in her eyes is clear as day and it is time for me to leave.

Silently, using all my skills as a thief to not disturb the two women, I turn around and head towards the stairs. Except I'm stopped before I can reach them, by a pale hand and Henry's tousled shock of hair.

"I heard Mom scream," he says under his breath, the same urgency in his voice as in Emma's before. "Is she alright?"

"She will be," I reply, "Emma is with her."

Henry calms, then looks at me with eyes far too wise for a boy of his age and nods solemnly. 

"Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. You were never one to keep treasures for yourself."

I shrug, refusing to look back to the door that's still slightly ajar, and smile wistfully.

"You know she was never mine to begin with."

"See ya around Robin," Henry says after a pause and we both know this is goodbye. I will come back to the mansion, but if everything goes according to plan, it will never be the same again. I hope that Regina and I can be friends, were still soulmates after all, but I also feel that my heart will need time to heal before I can see her with Emma.

"Bye Henry. I'll send Little John to pick up Roland tomorrow morning."

Henry looks back at the smaller boy, allowed to sleep on a folding bed next to Henry's. He lies with a blissful smile on his face and I feel the familiar tug of guilt about forcing him to grow accustomed to yet another difficult family situation.

"He'll be fine," Henry whispers and I finally turn and descend the stairs. The front door is locked and I use my lockpicks to make sure it is again after I let myself out. Storybrooke's streets are deserted as I slowly make my way home to the woods.

The next day I get a message from Henry, the phone Regina talked me into pinging obnoxiously loud in the peaceful silence of the trees. I flip it open and the screen comes alive with the photo the boy sent me. It shows Regina's bed and on it two women, one blonde and one brunette, curled into each other. It's hard to make out in the pixels but it looks like both are smiling. Underneath, Henry just wrote two words: 

"Thank you."


End file.
